I get a flashback in my mind of my mother’s fragility a year ago in the hospital corridor and all the hours she has poured into doing all she possibly could since then to ease Matthew back into life again. Every prayer, every spiritual cure, weekly novenas, blessings from the parish priest, she did everything she could to pull him into this stage and now the time has finally come. Matthew is coming home for good.

‘Your dad is getting the car ready now and we’re lifting him tomorrow morning at St Benedict’s,’ she sings. ‘Oh Charlotte, give that nice Doctor Jack a big hug from me tonight when you see him. I’m so happy I could shout it from the rooftops!’

The respite and rehabilitation centre near Malahide, where Dr Jack Malone attends as a consultant neurologist, has been a home from home for Matthew for about nine months now. This weekend will mark the end of such a long, emotional run of events that we never thought we’d see the light at the end of it.

‘So will Jack be joining us for Christmas dinner then?’ asks Mam, almost as excited at the prospect of having a real doctor in her humble abode as she is about Matthew coming home. ‘He’s very welcome! I know he doesn’t have much time off on Christmas Day but we’re only an hour up the road and we’d love to have him.’

I pause and twiddle my hair, unable to help a light smile creeping across my face. Something flutters in my tummy at the sound of his name and as I picture his handsome face. Jack and I have become close, very close, and as Matthew has improved our relationship has grown into something quite special. He’s funny, he’s drop-dead gorgeous, he’s strong both of mind and body and, if it weren’t for him, I don’t know how I’d have coped with everything this far. He’s a good guy and he has really helped us all in so many ways.

‘I think he will be joining us, yes,’ I say to Mam and she relays the news back to my father, who seems equally impressed. He likes Jack. We all like Jack. He practically saved Matthew’s life in so many ways this year, not only with his medical expertise, but with all the extra effort he put in to making his rehabilitation easier, so we’ve a lot to be grateful for.

‘I’d better order in some of those posh home-made desserts then from the bakery in town. What’s it called again, Paddy? The bakery? The fancy one?’

She’s talking to my dad now even though I’m still on the phone.